Assassin's Creed: Unite
by Rougeification
Summary: SYOC! In an age of chaos and a time of change, four young heroes will emerge. Join them as they fight against the Tyranny of the Templars, the Domination of a Despotic Monarch, and more importantly, each other - all in the name of Liberation and Unity. Set in 1789 - the French Revolution. E. Marlowe's Ancestor.
1. Prologue: The Fall of a King

**Okay - so there's been a lot of applications coming in - only one has been accepted - and they know who they are. I have to clarify a few things:**

**They must be realistic - for instance, a Native American would not have left their homeland, let alone travel to Paris from America. Also, France and Britain were at war - an Englishman would not be in Paris. For instance, my character is French. Moreover, not every Assassin can come from Nobility - none of the Nobles wanted the revolution.**

**The weapons must be within the setting - that means no Roman gladius, no tomahawk - most of the weapons were cutlasses, pistols, hammers, pikes and staffs...**

**The whole 'morality' thing is whether they would abandon the mission to help people that were, for example, starving - they cannot do both. This is about their mentality: Does the mission matter more than the people in trouble? There's no right or wrong answer.**

**Merciful or Leave No Witnesses - now, when those of you say "he won't kill someone that's not in his way" - that's good, but what about those that are in his way? For instance, after interrogating someone, would he be like Edward and let them go, or Altair and kill them so as to not risk the Target finding out?**

**All I'm saying is do a bit of research - I've had to make compromises to make my character to fit into the era a little bit more. So - you can resubmit your characters, tweaking these things about them, but there's only two more slots open - so get them in as soon as you can.**

Prologue: The Fall of a King

21 January 1793

The cheering of the crowd echoed through the streets, jeers and blood-thirsty yells reverberated across the rooftops and swept under my hood and into my ears. I flickered my eyes towards the scaffold, occupied by two men in tri-corner hats. A third man stood at the bottom of the scaffold, holding a length of rope in his hands; No doubt they were to bind the former monarch.

The carriage arrived, swept up in a wave of troops, which consisted of the most desperate and hateful citizens of Paris. I noticed a number of drums in front of the horses; Presumably an attempt to drown out any noise or cheers for the King - an unnecessary precaution. No one stood at their windows or their doors - everyone was in the streets, eagerly awaiting the show.

I watched as the man was forcibly dragged from the carriage, with three soldiers moving to strip him of his clothes, only the prisoner shrugged their hands away; beginning to undress himself. I smiled sadly to myself - the Third Estate had revolted because of their abuse, yet here they were, acting as vile as those they fought against.

He was led by the arm to the scaffold, with the crowds maliciously screaming obscenities at the man, who arrived at the foot of the scaffold, and after some dispute, hopelessly agreed to allow his hands to be bound.

He was led up to the top of the scaffold, where he looked out amongst the masses, all of whom called for his blood. He walked along the scaffold by himself, and began to address the crowds in a loud, steady voice.

"I die innocent of all crimes laid to my charge!" He called towards the masses, who had quietened down some since he stepped in the front of the stage. "I pardon those who have occasioned my death!" I may had been standing high upon a building but I was sure his face turned towards my direction, and had I been closer, I would've seen his eyes bore straight into mine. "And I pray to God that the blood you are about to shed may never be visited on France."

I looked down at the figure - his face no longer holding any dread or sadness, but more tranquility. It was known that he had never desired the crown, and had often wished he wasn't king. He opened his mouth to progress with his speech, only to be drowned out as a soldier on horseback gave a signal for the drums, which rattled enough to drown out his words. The men and women he had once governed shouted in demand for his head. The man was thrown towards the guillotine and fitted to the bench.

I remained on the rooftop, watching the most virtuous king France had ever had strapped to the guillotine. In a moment, the guillotine swept down, and the crowd thundered a cheer so loud it could've been heard not just across the country, but even across the channel.

A young soldier held up the twitching face of the man by a handful of his hair, showing him to the crowd as he walked across the scaffold. They rejoiced, their bloodlust sated at the death of not just a king, but also a husband and a father - like them. I crossed my chest and lowered my head.

"_Aller à Dieu_."


	2. Chapter 1: Aller à Dieu

Chapter One: Aller à Dieu

_De Sauveterre Estate, Rouen, France_

_29th September 1788_

I sat by the window, reading a book - Homer's _Iliad_. I had read it multiple times, yet it never failed to amaze me; the images of Troy, with the marvels of beautiful and awe-inspiring architecture. It was the first book that my grandfather had taught me to read. I found it difficult at first, being written in the scripture of Ancient Greek, but this was just one of the many lessons he taught me - with practice comes perseverance.

I looked out of the window, across the lush rows of hills, rose bushes growing into hedges and vines winding around the trees off in the distance. Past the trees I could see it - the city of Paris. I had never been before, and often longed to go - as a child, I had been confined to my grandfather's land, and once I was old enough to go, I needed to stay and help him manage his affairs - given his gradual worsening of his illness.

"_Monsieur_?" I looked towards the maid, Dominique. "He wishes to see you now." I nodded my thanks and closed the book, placing it on the windowsill and making my way up the stairs after the young girl, who led me to the Master's room - he lay there in bed, with a physician by his side. I looked towards the man, who shook his head sadly, packing away various instruments into his black bag, which he handed to a younger, scrawny boy, years younger than myself.

My gaze drifted towards the sickly man in bed - his hair was now void of all black strands, and was conquered by age's white threads that stemmed from his scalp. His green eyes - my own green eyes, seemed to ache and wither along with his skin, but still twinkled with a hint of naivety.

"Fillian?" I looked towards my grandfather, who now reached out with a hand.

"_Oui_." I moved forwards, sitting in the armchair that had been moved up to his chambers a month ago. I took his hand in mine. "I'm right here." His eyes found me, and a smile etched upon his worn and scarred skin.

"Ah... Fillian." I returned the smile, only mine was filled with sorrow. He examined me. "You have been reading." He stated. I nodded.

"How'd you always know?" His smile simply widened. He then glanced at the physician and Dominique.

"Leave us." He instructed. The physician and his apprentice bowed before departing the room with Dominique. I watched them leave before turning my attention back to my grandfather.

He watched the door close and then looked back to me.

"I trust you are in good health?" I nodded. "This is encouragement enough for you to stay so." I chuckled sadly. "You are a man now." He sighed. "It seems like days ago you first held a blade." I nodded, remembering the weight of the rapier from when I was a child. "Fillian, you are to be named my heir." He said suddenly. My eyes widened.

"I..." I tried to explain how humbled I felt by this. "But, it's not my place. I am only..." I tried to state a thousand different flaws to his intentions in one sentence.

"A bastard?" He asked. He chuckled, placing his other hand on top of mine. "You are my blood. No one else is as suitable as you." He reassuringly smiled, then started coughing once again.

"I'll fetch the physician-" I went to go, but my grandfather's gentle resting hand turned to a tight grip on my wrist, chaining me to the bedside.

"Do not fuss." He insisted. "I've taken up enough of Lenoux's time. He's a busy man; his time would be better served healing someone other than a dying man." I felt immediately like disagreeing, but I did not want my last few moments with my grandfather being an argument. "But that was not what I wanted to talk to you about." He eventually spoke again. "Of all things in this world, what do you value most?" I bit my lip, thinking hard.

"A belly full of wine." I said finally. My grandfather gave another throaty chuckle.

"Of the immaterial, what is the most important?" I bit my lip - what did I value? "Honour?" My grandfather suggested. "Justice? Peace?"

I paused, thinking again, only to have my mind completely vacant of values. After a few seconds, I realised another.

I thought of all the things he had said - honour was important - it had been instilled inside me since I could first speak; Honour of my family, honour of my country - anyone with honour was their own man, answering to no one.

But what about justice? It was certainly important to me - it was why we had a government - to ensure justice is dispensed and regulated fairly. Without justice, society would fall apart. Justice was important - it was made everyone equal; everyone had to answer to their crimes.

As for peace - it was by far very important. Simply because war tore apart families and turned people against each other. Peace allowed for progress, government, families. It was undoubtedly the most important out of all of these values; without Peace, one could not be free to govern their own lives - they would surely be conscripted or forced to fund a war.

As I began to speak, I realised something - something that occurred in all of these values - something that bound them together. Upon my epiphany, I recognized that this was definitely the most important thing in the world without question.

"Liberty." I said finally to my grandfather. "Freedom is what I value." My grandfather beamed, and patted my hand.

"You are very much like your mother." He said, making me grin. "In my study, there is a chest. It contains my effects from when I was a younger man." His eyes began to sparkle, cast with reminiscence and nostalgia. "The chest is marked with a symbol, use your skill to find it." I nodded, taking his instruction. "After finding the chest, you must go to Paris, and seek out _le Nid d'Aigle_." I nodded. "Go now - I'm not going anywhere." He said in a tone of reassurance. I stood up, feeling reluctant to leave, and left the room, allowing the physician, Lenoux, and his apprentice to enter the room, led by Dominique.

I walked across the wooden floorboards until I came to a solid oak door, which I pushed open, entering the large study, filled with a large wooden desk beside a large gilded-framed mirror, a vast collection of books and a set of swords, held up on display on a rack, complete with gilded guards and ornate swirls around the hilt.

Puzzlement consumed my mind as I thought about what my grandfather's instructions - there was no chest here. No mark that I could see.

I closed my eyes, trying to call upon my 'skill'. I tried to focus on the sounds of the creaking floorboards, the feel of the humid French air that fell upon my skin, the smell of roses drifting in through the open windows, the taste of wine that still sat upon my lips.

I opened my eyes.

Everything was dimmed - it was as if I was activating every sense I possessed, and found everything in the study lacking interest - I had held this 'skill', as my grandfather called it, since I was a boy - I had been the only one who held it, according to my grandfather, who had often asked me about it, writing down the details in one of his various journals.

Then, something caught my attention.

I walked towards a certain floorboard, which glowed with an unusual aura. It pulsed with a white throbbing air. I walked towards it, and upon stepping on it, I heard an echo. I frowned, pushing more weight onto it - a creak showed that the floorboard held an empty space below it. I walked over to the rack of swords, pulling out a cutlass and using the stiff metal blade that foils lacked to pry open the floorboard with surprising ease.

Upon opening the floorboard, I found a long, fairly narrow chest. I grabbed it, pulling it out of the floor and placing it beside the void below. I examined the open lock, which was decorated with a carved triangular marking - one I had not ever come across in my grandfather's vast inventory of family trees and coat of arms.

I lifted up the lid, peering inside the chest - inside sat a collection of peculiar items.

Inside the chest lay another cutlass, only this one was sheathed, with no ornate hand guard - just a simple hooked thread of metal in front of a hilt, hidden behind a golden dish.

I tied the belt around my waist, allowing it to hang slightly lower than my own original belt. As I did tie the belt, I noticed the same mark carved into the chest acting as a buckle, silver-laced with a flourish in its smithing. Behind my right hip, the belt held a holster. Was my grandfather a soldier? I had never heard of him fighting before.

I reached back into the chest, this time pulling out a long emerald coat, decorated with various golden buttons and black trimmings. I pulled it out, trying it on - it fit as if it had been tailored for me. I felt something bush against my neck, and found a hood attached to the top of the coat - a beaked hood. I pulled it over my head, observing my reflection in the mirror - my face was concealed save my nose and chin, which lay lightly with stubble. I frowned in bemusement - what a strange choice of attire.

Only one item lay inside the chest now - a bracer. I pulled it out, examining it better; It was leather, with a pair of straps on the inside, along with a strange contraption. On the front of the bracer was a coat of arms - a large silver lion sat astrid a helmet, with a plumage of feathers. Below the helmet was another lion, raised up on it's hind legs. I buckled the straps tightly, examining the small machinery that lay against my wrist. It seemed to be blade of some kind...

"_Monsieur_?" I looked back to Dominique's voice, leaving the study and walking into my grandfather's chambers. I did not think to remove my grandfather's effects as I pulled down the hood, walking through the hallway and back into my grandfather's chambers.

He lay there, completely motionless, his eyes glazed and his smile etched upon his grizzled face. His hand lay where mine had been. He may had looked the same as he had been mere minutes before, but there was an absence of spirit in the room - he was dead.

I clasped my hands in front of my waist and we all bowed our heads.

"_Aller à Dieu_." Lenoux muttered to himself.

"_Aller à Dieu_." Lenoux's apprentice, Dominique and I muttered in broken unison.

**Please leave a review saying what you thought of the first chapter - I've spent quite a bit of time on it, and will hopefully be updating every week or so.**


	3. Chapter 2: Le Nid d'Aigle

**I know I haven't updated this in, like, a year, but the story I originally wrote clashed really badly with the storyline of Unity. However, my exams finish in just over a month, and I'm pretty ill at the moment, so I decided to finish off this chapter since it was just sitting there...**

**The character, Roux, is the OC of **_**MyOtherPersonality**_** \- shout-out to her for making a great character.**

**I've got enough characters now, which will consist of 5 Assassins (including Fillian). Anyway, Here's the second chapter - I hope you guys enjoy!**

Chapter Two: _Le Nid d'Aigle_

_20th December 1788_

It took little less than a month to settle all of my grandfather's accounts. Dominique was now entrusted to manage the affairs in my absence. Soon after his funeral, I had arranged for passage to Paris, and in less than a week, I was in what was, beyond even a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful city on Earth:

The gilded city glimmered and gleamed in the sunlight, which seemed to radiate from the beautiful cathedral - masterpiece of masonry that stood tall in the courtyard. I exited my carriage, looking around and grinning to myself.

"_Magnifique_." I muttered to myself. I gave the driver a small purse and sent him on his way, walking through the crowded streets, admiring the stonework - the spirals of the cathedral, which echoed Marlowe's description of Troy - the topless towers of Illium, scraping against the azure velvet of the midday vacant sky.

I looked around at the city's inhabitants, most of whom were in dirtied clothes, examining me interestingly, having just left the carriage. I sensed no harm from them, just curiousity. I tightened my white cravat and pulled up my hood, walking through the streets, eyes flickering around for anyone who came nearby - just like my Grandfather had taught me.

Finally, I came to a small courtyard, with a selection of tables and chairs strewn about. Behind these, a small building drew my attention - boarded up and overgrown with vines and posters, I managed to make out the name of it...

"_Le Nid d'Aigle_." I murmured aloud, and made my way towards the door, trying to tear off the wooden planks. I eventually resorted to taking out my cutlass and using it to pry the boards off. I then gently pushed the door, which creaked open.

The interior of the old building suggested it had been some sort of tavern - a large wooden bar sat along the side of the wall, with lined shelves of dusted bottles - most of which were smashed, and those that remained intact were blanketed in cobwebs.

I ran a finger along the wooden bar, measuring the amount of dust on my finger before quickly brushing it off with my thumb. I placed my hands on my hips.

"Guess I came here too late." I muttered lowly.

"Just over two decades late." I spun around to see a young boy standing there, dressed in a set of flea-bitten muddied-brown trousers, stopping at his ankles, which were noticeably quite skinny. He wore a large red hood, obscuring his eyes from mine. I instinctively rested my hand on the hilt of my cutlass.

"Were you following me boy?" I asked suspiciously, eyeing the stranger uncertainly. The boy simply walked towards the bar, resting his forearms on it.

"_Oui_. It was not too difficult." He stated. "Follow the _noble dans le_ _vert_."

"I'm no noble." I snapped, frustrated at being what I am.

"Oh?" He asked, curiousity piqued. "Then what are you?" He came closer towards me, sniffing the air lightly. "You're not a peasant."

"Who are you boy?" He chuckled lightly, walking back towards the bar.

"Roux." As he walked, pulling up the sleeves of his large shirt, I made out the colour of his skin - it was darker than any Frenchman's - more of a noticeable tan lay on his skin.

I then noticed a bracer, strapped to the inside of his arm - it bore the same triangular symbol as mine.

"That marking," I held a hand out towards the bracer, "what is it?" He eyed me suspiciously.

"And why would you like to know?"

I pulled up the coat sleeve, revealing the bracer underneath. His eyes grew wide as he saw the insignia on it.

"Where'd you get that-" He took a step forwards, hands outreached. I had already drawn my sword, pointing it as his throat. He stopped dead in his tracks, beginning to encircle me, eyes fixated on me. Not my blade - me. "The man who owned that before you, what happened to him?"

"What is it to you?" I asked, blade still held high.

The boy narrowed his eyes, a light hazel tone that glinted under his hood.

"Did you loot the old man's clothes as well?" Caution flooded my mind - how did he know my grandfather wore these clothes?

"I was gifted them." I stated.

Eventually the boy stopped encircling me. He crossed his arms, observing me. "This man," Roux said slowly, "the one who gave you that," he nodded his head towards the cutlass, "dead by your hand?" I paused for a moment, curious about if it meant to him. Well, obviously it did but I was interested in why.

"Consumption." I stated. Roux bowed his head.

"_Repose en paix_..." he said quietly. He turned his gaze back onto more - a more probing look than a threatening one. "Were you his _valet_? Or perhaps _un Apprenti_?"

"_Un Apprenti_?" I asked, confused. "You confuse him with a craftsman - my grandfather was-"

"Grandfather?" He asked, taken aback. "_La duchesse_ has no children."

Sensing the Roux was no threat to me at the moment, I sheathed my cutlass.

"None legitimately." I nodded. Roux took a moment to realise, then smiled knowingly.

"Ah, _un bâtard au sang bleu_." I clenched my fist in frustration. "_Salutations_." He said, extending a hand, which I took, examining him carefully. I shook his hand once, bringing my hand back to my hilt.

"I was told to come here by my grandfather." I stated.

"_Oui_, we sometimes come here..." Roux said, walking through the tavern, hands clutched behind his waist.

"_Pourquoi ça_?" I asked, dawdling idly behind him.

"It teaches us not to forget. Not to grow complacent." He turned around to face me. "Not to falter."

"Strange way to teach a lesson..." I muttered, running a hand along the dusty counter. "What happened here?"

Roux narrowed his eyes.

"I do not think I'm the one to tell you." He said, turning towards the entrance of the the tavern. "Follow if you wish to learn who Florian De Sauveterre was to us."

"Who is 'us'?" I asked, holding out a hand to get his attention. Roux turned around with a slight smile noticeable under his hood.

"Follow."

I walked after the boy, out into the blazing sun. I couldn't help examine the city - it was utterly awe-inspiring. Just the the way that the sun hit the glass panes, the way the trees swept along with the breeze.

"_Monsieur De Sauveterre_!" I turned around to see the boy standing atop a building. Frowning, I walked towards the building, looking up.

"How the devil did you get up there?"

"Follow." He said once again.

I bit my lip and then ran towards the wall, grabbing onto a ledge and beginning to scale along the side of the yellow-chipped wall. Finally, I leapt backwards, grabbing the edge of the rooftop and pulling myself up on it, roof tiles snapping off as I did so.

"Good_,_" Roux smiled slightly - his hairless chin and petal-shaped lips visible under the hood.

"Good?" I asked.

"You can climb," he stated.

"_Oui_," I nodded "the De Sauveterre Estate was fairly dull."

"He began to train you..." Roux muttered to himself, then began running along the rooftops, with myself breaking out into a brisk jog to keep up.

"Train me? What do you mean?"

"You need to meet the Mentor."

"The Mentor?" I repeated, running alongside him until he suddenly leapt across the street below, grabbing onto the edge of another rooftop. I couldn't help but look down at the street below, bustling with people.

"You coming or what?" The boy shouted. I cursed to myself and took a few steps back, then sprinted forwards at full speed, slamming my chest onto the rooftop. I struggled to pull myself up onto the tiled roof, looking after where Roux had darted.

It seemed like hours that I spent following Roux along the rooftops, trying to follow the path he had taken. Needless to say, I was not nearly half as graceful in traversing the city. Roux seemed to move in a way that only a cat could move - dashing between cracked chimneys and swinging along cables connecting the roofing of the city together like a spider's web.

Finally, we arrived at a grand gothic building - it stood magnificently, with pale blue roof tiles, long arching windows with dazzling colours. Barely anyone stood outside, and as I stood on the top of the roof, examining this sight, I began to wonder about the years I spent in Rouen when I could have been in this absolutely wonderful city.

"Seen something interesting _Monsieur_?" Roux grinned widely as he examined me, a smirk of amusement flitting across his lips.

"Is this a cathedral?" I asked. Roux chuckled.

"Aren't you the naïve little eaglet?"

Roux then proceeded to drop between window-sills and balconies until he reached the ground.

"Eaglet?" I muttered to myself in confusion, before slowly and carefully following the same path as Roux. As likely enough, I lost my footing at a window sill, and slumped onto my back onto the ground.

I began to push myself up off the ground, cursing lowly as I looked up to see Roux grinning to himself as he dawdled along the cobbled ground. Roux smirked another smirk.

"I see this eaglet cannot fly yet." He grinned. I shook my head, standing up and marching towards Roux.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Here." Roux said simply. I looked around the small courtyard we were in.

"You mean the chapel?" I asked, remembering not to call it a cathedral, lest I be ridiculed by Roux once again.

"_Oui_ _monsieur_." She turned around and began to lead my towards the archway and into the chapel. "_Bienvenue à la maison de la Confrérie des Assassins_."

**Hope you guys enjoyed! Don't forget to leave a review. Also, if you need translations for the French in each chapter, I'll start leaving translations at the end of each chapter, though I think it's pretty easy to guess what they're saying...**

**Anyway, you'll meet at least one new Assassin next chapter. The accepted ASSASSINS are:**

Fillian De Sauverette (Submitted by me)

Born in 1768 (21)

French

_The illegitimate son of a Duchess and Marquis, Fillian was raised by his grandfather in a country estate in Rouen. Fairly __naïve__ and idealistic, Fillian has a starry-eyed view of the world, and finds himself seeking out the Assassins without fully knowing who they are, or what he's sacrificing._

Darius Mateo Morraine (Submitted by BlueSpade)

Born in 1767 (22)

French

_Charming and witty, Darius is considered to be the daredevil of the group, often planning assassinations for the group. A sharp wit and a keen intellect, Darius comes from the poorer side of Paris, and harbours a deep dislike of Templars due to a tragic past._

Lynne 'Roux' Girard (Submitted by MyOtherPersonality)

Born in 1764 (25)

French-Haitian

_The Granddaughter of a slave, and illicit daughter of a maid and a nobleman, Baudelaire, Lynne has adapted to living on the streets, doing whatever it takes to survive - there are no advantages to honour - the bottom line is surviving._

Marie-Katherine Beauregard (Submitted by **I cannot actually find the user who sent me this character - can he/she please send me a message?**)

Born in 1764 (25)

French-Italian

_Someone who has suffered first-hand at the corrupt nobles in France. Coming from a long line of Assassins, Marie has grown up to become fiercely independent as well as headstrong. Can she find revenge through the Assassins in the midst of a bloody revolution?_

Gustave St. Claire (Submitted by Rachael torie b)

Born in 1769 (20)

French

_Immature and idealistic, Gustav has known hardship at the hands of the Templars in his privileged childhood. Unlike his counterparts in the Brotherhood, Gustave is not a fully initiated Assassin, and is still trying to follow in his father's footsteps and fight against oppression._

**There will be a coupe of other side characters included, but they will not actually be Assassins. **


	4. Chapter 3: La Confrérie des Assassins

**Hello again! Welcome to another chapter - I just want to say quickly that this is focused more on Fillian than any other assassin since it is his initiation. Anyway, leave a review and let me know what you think!**

Chapter Three: _La __Confrérie des Assassins_

_20th December 1788_

The catacombs beneath the chapel were dark, and a heavy smell of damp lingered heavily in the air. It was very dark, with small congregations of candles crammed together in the arches at the sides of the stone corridor to light the way. A scarlet carpet guided my path through the vestibule, which was lined with archaic-looking statues.

"What in God's name is this place?" I asked Roux, who continued to lead me down the aisle.

"It's a haven... for our kind." Roux turned his head towards me. "It's where we can take instruction and make ready."

"Make ready for what?"

Roux remained quiet as I followed him into a large circular chamber, with aged stone steps spiraling up on either side to a large balcony above the archway in front of us.

"This seems cosy doesn't it..." I muttered to myself.

"It's not meant to feel cosy." Roux informed me. "It's practical. From being down here, we can travel through the catacombs and across the entire city without anyone watching."

"That's a touch too paranoid, don't you think?"

"This place has acted as our sanctuary without fail for six centuries."

We walked out of the antechamber, and entered a large chasm, with the scarlet carpet leading us past exposed slabs of rocks. Pots of fire flickered as we walked by, approaching the end of the pathway: A large balcony faced me, with two winding staircases on either side.

"_Le candidat_ will approach."

I swung my head around at the echo, looking for the man who had spoken. However, as I turned my head around, I saw four figures, cloaked in cowls, standing at the balcony, looking down upon me. The wall beneath the balcony held several intricate carvings and sculptures, but the one that caught my gaze was the marble triangular symbol - the same one Roux and I had on our bracers.

"_Le candidat_ will state his name."

"Fillian," I waited a moment, and with a glance from Roux, I guessed I had to state my full name "Fillian Charles De Sauveterre."

"De Sauveterre?" One of the figures looked towards the others in bewilderment. "You are of _le petit-fils de Monsieur De Sauveterre_?"

"I am." I confirmed with a nod.

"Why have you appeared before us?" Asked another.

"My grandfather, _Monsieur De Sauveterre_, he died three months ago... on his deathbed, he bid me to seek out _le Nid d'Aigle_."

"Ah.. _le Nid d'Aigle_." Another one of the figures repeated. "Little more than a monument now."

"But, you have found _le Nid d'Aigle_. You have found us." The man standing closer to the centre stated. "And now you have found what you seek... what do you want?"

"I..."

I paused - what did I want? In truth, I didn't know. I wanted to repay my grandfather for his kindness, for raising me when he had no obligation to. I wanted to honour his memory by fulfilling his last wish.

I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to tell them this. But, at the same time, I wanted to ask them who my grandfather was, who they were - so many questions burned inside my mind, yet no words could formulate them in my mouth.

"He seeks to follow in the footsteps of Mentor De Sauveterre." Roux informed them, stepping into the light.

"The council recognizes Lynne Girrard."

"Lynne?" I muttered to myself, looking back at the figure in confusion. Roux had removed the hood, and now I saw not a scrawny boy, but a young girl. Her coffee-coloured skin mimicked the same tone of her light brown eyes. "You're a-"

"_Le candidat_ will face the council." A cloaked figure instructed in a feminine voice.

"_Mes exuses_." I said quickly, dropping my gaze to the ground.

"Girrard?" The woman asked.

"This is the grandson of Mentor De Sauveterre. He was given his coat, blade and bracer on Mentor De Sauveterre's deathbed. He learnt how to climb at the De Sauveterre estate. I believe that he was being trained."

One of the figures held up a hand to silence Roux.

"_Ainsi soit-il._" The hooded women then turned her hooded gaze towards me. I felt all eyes approach me, and the silence echoed throughout the cavern, save for the crackling of the fires around us. One of the men then took his turn at speaking.

"Out of the dark, you come into the light. From the light, you will return to the dark. Are you prepared to travel the eagle's path?"

I glanced to Roux, who nodded encouragingly.

"I am."

The man smirked knowingly, as if he was amused by me.

"Then drink."

His hand gestured to the chalice that rested at the centre of the triangular symbol. I approached it carefully, slowly picking it up and examining the purple elixir inside.

The smell was tantalizing to my senses, and I felt shivers run down the back of my neck as I inhaled the scent. I closed my eyes and picked up the chalice and began to ingest the elixir. I felt my body convulse and could feel the strange sensation of the elixir seeping into my blood. I dropped the silver chalice, stumbling backwards before finally slumping onto the floor.

The crackling of the fire fell silent, as did the clattering of the chalice. Suddenly, all I could hear was the wind. I looked up from the ground to see a group of men and women, clad in fine garments and emeralds dancing in a lavish, gilded and ornate hall, like the ones described in _the Odyssey_.

I walked through the crowds, unable to fully hear their words. It was all blurred and hazy, like something from a dream.

"Presenting_ la duchesse De Sauveterre_..."

I stopped in my tracks, my head snapping around in the mention of the woman.

"Mother?" I began to move past the various nobles, shoving them out of my way. "Mother!"

"...Accompanied by _le marquis D'Ambly_."

I saw a two figures enter the middle of a clearing in the crowd, and begin to dance. I forced my way past the throngs of on-lookers until I came to the front.

However, as I shoved aside the final person, I saw nothing but a deserted floor. There was no longer fine music and tinkling of glasses and conversation in the background, but instead, musket fire and screaming and rallying cries. I turned around beside me to see thousands upon thousands of men and women armed with swords and pitchforks calling out behind me. I turned around to see two battered tombstones. Etched in the decaying stone were two names:

_Duchesse Alliana De Sauveterre_

_Marquis Jacques D'Ambly_

I grabbed my forehead with my hands; a splitting pain began to ripple across my mind. They weren't dead - I knew they weren't. I would've heard - I would've been contacted!

Suddenly, I stopped. I began to feel something wet upon my hands. I took my hands away from my forehead, and looked down to see my hands painted in crimson: blood dripped down onto the floor.

I staggered backwards, where I knocked into something hard. I turned around to see a statue of a man in a beaked hood. It looked familiar - with a groomed beard that covered the jaw and a small scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Grandfather?" I asked slowly.

Suddenly, the statue began to crumble, with stones cracking and falling onto the floor. The stained marble shattered around me, and then was drawn back to the statue with the speed of a gunshot. Suddenly, I saw a reflection - the statue had the same beaked hood, but it was a different face that wore it: with a cleanly shaven chin, a smaller nose and a slightly thinner jaw.

I dropped down onto my knees at the sight of my sculpted self, closing my eyes. I grabbed my forehead again as I felt the searing pain claw across my brain. I exhaled through gritted teeth and my hands clenched into fists.

The wind slowly died down until it came to a complete stop. The sound of crackling embers flitting from fire faded back to me. I suddenly became aware of the ground beneath my knees and opened my eyes.

The first thing I noticed was my hands - they were no longer stained in blood. The second thing I noticed was the haze and blurs of my surroundings, and how they seemed to dissipate like smoke. The third and final thing that I noticed was the group of four figures who stood in front of me this time, rather than on the balcony.

"These are the words spoken by our ancestors," spoke the first man, who was directly in front of me "the words that lay at the heart of our creed."

"Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent." Spoke a man with skin the colour of Roux.

"Hide in plain sight." Spoke the woman again.

"Never compromise the brotherhood." Spoke an older man, with his greying beard visible on his chin.

"Let these tenants be branded upon your mind." My attention returned to the man who spoke first. "Follow them, and be uplifted. Break them at your peril." I nodded, absorbing each word that they spoke. "Rise, Assassin."

I pushed myself up off of the floor, swaying slightly. I saw Roux step forwards from the side, only to be halted by the elder cloaked man. Finally, I raised myself up to stand at my full height.

"_Le Assassin,_ Darius Morraine, will instruct you in the field, and guide you as an apprentice."

I nodded as another man stepped out from the darkness. He wore a decorative dark hood, with the triangular symbol stitched into the beak. The hood was pinned onto a matching leather doublet, decorated with two large belts across his chest. His white shirt was fairly worn and slightly stained. On his right arm, he had what looked to be a steel bracer, decorated with an ornate leather strap and two bronze buckles. A belt hung over his red sash, buckled together with the triangular symbol in gleaming gold. His black boots, decoratively lined with golden silk, clicked along the floor as he stood next to me.

"Fillian De Sauveterre is dead. He has been culled from this world, with his sins and failures turned to dust. Tonight he is reborn, a novice of the Assassin Brotherhood."

**So, another chapter already - I am on point! Anyway, I will start writing the next chapter tomorrow (if I'm still ill). Just so a couple of you can guess what will happen, the next chapter will include the word 'Reveillon'.**

**Also, leave a review letting me know what you guys thought about:**

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**See you guys next time!**


	5. Chapter 4: Le Réveillon Émeutes

**Hey guys - another update. I'm planning to finish this story in the next couple of months. I am also pleased to announce that I will be starting a new Assassin's Creed SYOC once I finish this one. I have been planning it for about... 9 months now? Just coming up with different protagonists, historical figures to include, locations, what equipment they would use etc. Anyway, as you can guess, it's set in London during the Industrial Revolution, but also twenty years after when Assassin's Creed: Syndicate is set, so hopefully I'll have a lot more lee-way when it comes to the story, as I do care very much about the story being canon.**

**Also, as I've told some of you, each protagonist in my Assassin's Creed stories is an ancestor of one of my characters, Edmund Marlowe (in Assassin's Creed: The Knight's Templar). To clearly outline lots of Edmund's ancestors, I've created a family tree online, consisting of ancestors from the French Revolution, Industrial Revolution, American Revolution and (in time) World War II.**

_Chapter Three: Le Réveillon Émeutes_

_27th April 1789_

I walked along the rooftop, pulling on my gloves as I examined the ground below. Crowds of people stood in a large congregation, all of them shouting and screaming at the large wooden factory. I couldn't make out any of the words they were saying, but the hostility radiated off them like heat from a fire.

"Another protest? Already?" I looked to Darius.

"Are you surprised? These men earn less than fifteen sous a week," He glanced around to me. "But then again, you never went hungry in your life did you?"

Darius had grown up in the district of Le Bievre - one of decadence and poverty. Since he was a child, he had been accustomed to traversing across Paris, learning which side of the road to walk on, and which merchants wouldn't chase after you if you stole a loaf of bread. He was a fairly withdrawn boy - and I say boy as he could not have been much older than myself.

"No, I didn't. Shall I apologize for that as well?" I asked pointedly. Darius shot a look of distaste at me before pulling up his black beaked hood, which only revealed showed his shadow of stubble along his jaw. I followed suit, pulling up my green hood.

I followed Darius as we ran across the rooftops, vaulting over the cracked chimney pots to get a better vantage point. Eventually, we came to a the roof of a patisserie, where we could examine the courtyard, and the protests that were occurring.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"Jean-Baptiste Réveillon," Darius said in a growl, turning around to face me. "Made a statement last Sunday, stating that wages should be cut and the price of bread should be lowered-"

"Wages should be cut?" I asked, outraged by this. "They can barely survive as it is!"

"Oh, I know _Monsieur_." Darius said with a mocking smile.

"So, what's the mission?"

"You're not an Assassin yet Fillian," Darius reminded me. "You've got no need to know this information. And if you were to be caught," Darius began to circle his glare from the crowds towards me. "Well, who knows what you'd tell under duress."

"You're right, I'm sure they'd be more focused on one man than the screaming crowds outside the factory." I stated, looking down onto said crowds. Darius smirked.

"I suppose that's true," he then turned back to the protest and knelt down, surveying the scene. "Three other demonstrations today were resolved peacefully. We're here to make sure the same thing happens for this one. After the protest, we'll interrogate Réveillon."

"That's it? We're babysitting?"

"Until we're told better, _oui_." Darius responded, his voice growing stern.

"I thought the Assassins wanted us to think for ourselves? Why are we to follow in blind obedience if that is the case?"

"Why indeed _Monsieur_?"

I watched as the children marched, their skin hanging off their bones. They had doubtlessly just lost brothers and sisters if not their parents too during the harsh winter that they had barely just survived. And it would all have been for naught, because of men like Réveillon cutting the wages that the poor so heavily depended upon. I looked over to Darius.

"Maybe at ground level, we could have more effect in helping this protest resolve peacefully?"

Darius thought for a moment, and I could see the cogs in his brain coiling and twisting.

"A sound idea." He nodded, and we began to descend from the balconies and cables until we both landed on the dirt.

We moved through the crowds, being careful to make sure no civilian was brandishing a weapon of any kind. I felt sick doing this - as corrupt and immoral as the man who was cutting their wages and letting them die to keep more gold for himself.

I saw a small boy fall to the floor - and no wonder. If I had legs as skeletal as his, I would've fallen to the ground too. I made my way over to him as a soldier knelt down to help him. The soldier had a look of pity on his face - one I saw rarely saw in times like these. The commanding officer then came by, jerking the arm of the officer and puling him back from the boy with a stern look of scolding. He then turned to the boy, who's arm was stretching outwards in a final plea of desperation. One human was asking for help from another, and yet somehow, it was possible for this man to turn his back on the boy.

In a flash, the captain of Réveillon's guard spun around, and the back of his palm connected with the side of the boy's face.

I froze. I no longer felt the warmth of the sun on my chin, I no longer heard the chants of the crowds around me, and I no longer saw the countless others around me - I could only see the officer in front of me and the beaten child.

I began to push aside the men and women around me, making my way over to the man. Was this on the orders of Réveillon too? I didn't care if men and women noticed me or not - the poor of France had been disregarded for too long!

I tensed my arm, flicking my wrist and allowing a small blade to eject from my bracer. I broke into a run towards the man, launching myself up into the air and slicing my blade through the jugular of his throat. Blood spurted from his throat, and began to flood across the dirt of the courtyard. I turned around to his officers who stood there - about a dozen of them, all now training their muskets on me.

"_Pour le peuple de France!_"

I turned around to see hundreds of men raising their arms before charging towards the soldiers. I allowed myself to drowned by the crowd, looking out to see Darius tugging my arm backwards and pulling me towards the factory.

"Nicely done _crétin_!" He yelled sarcastically as we disappeared from the chaos below and began to scale the building.

Darius was better at climbing than me, and so he entered through the window first. I slipped inside a couple of seconds afterwards, drawing my sword.

A tall, well-built man was cowering in the corner of the room, utterly terrified at the sight of Darius wielding a long pike, with a strong, sharp axe-face at the end of it.

"Jean-Baptiste Réveillon," Darius introduced the man to me. "_Monsieur Réveillon_, _Monsieur De Sauveterre_."

"Is it wise telling him our names?"

"We're the least of his problems." Darius replied. "What's this we've been hearing about cutting wages _monsieur_?"

"Cutting wages...what?"

"You clearly stated that you intend to cut the wages of your workers." I interjected. "Do men like you find it incomprehendable that the people of France cannot survive on the _pitance _you pay them?"

"I... I said no such thing!" Réveillon said in a trembling voice.

"You liar-" I took a step forwards.

"I said it was high- too high!" Réveillon recoiled in fear. "The bread - it needed to be lower otherwise people wouldn't be able to eat!"

I grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt and drew him up to my face, staring him in the eye. I had been brought up beside honest men; Men who lived and died by their honour, who had never lied or cheated once in the time I had known them. I had known the women of Rouen who had helped raise me that had never once shown any form of jealousy or envy for my elevated status. And as I looked in Réveillon's eyes, I saw these people staring back at me.

"Please... don't kill me..." Réveillon whimpered.

The door smashed open off it's hinges, and all three of us know looked towards the hordes of the factory workers fixing their eyes on us, with shavehooks, filling knives and stake-ended paintbrushes.

"_Merde!_" Darius hissed, before tackling the petrified Réveillon out of the window. I darted over to the window, just in time to see Darius dragging Réveillon out of a pile of hay that had been lying there. It was easily a forty foot drop, and the haystack looked miniscule from where I was standing, but the rabble looked a bit too big.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer to God, I leapt out of the window after Darius and Réveillon, somersaulting and twisting through the air helplessly, until I was caught by the hay, a mere two or three feat above the ground. I lay for a moment, breathing sighs after sighs of relief, before Darius grabbed me by the arm, pulling me away.

Réveillon, Darius and I made our escape through the crowds of soldiers that continued to run towards the factory, until we were a good three miles away from the factory on rooftops. I stopped, turning around to look back at the factory, and was greeted only be a sight of smoke and fire from where the factory used to be. Screams echoed across this city and resonated through my ears and across my conscience.

Réveillon had never intended to lower the wages, only the cost of food. Our information had undoubtedly been manipulated, and I had acted upon it, and this was what I had wrought - death and destruction. Absolute and utter chaos.

"Still think you can call yourself an Assassin yet _crétin_?" Darius muttered to me as he stood by my side.

"I thought they were going to die-"

"This is why we act on the orders of our Mentors. When some sanctimonous _sot_ decides to act upon his own impulses, he puts everyone at risk." He shook his head, the anger seething off his voice, which was drenched in distaste. "You think you know better because you grew up in a fancy house with a Mentor as your dad compared to us peasants?" He walked over to me, his nose an inch from my ear as he enunciated each word that stabbed at me like a knife.

"Our creed - our first tenet: Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent." He pointed over to the fire in the distance. "Your doing. Every death in today is on *your* shoulders." He jabbed a finger into my chest.

**Hope you guys enjoyed - I re-wrote this chapter a couple of times, and I'm still not wholly happy with it, but I figured that I can always re-post it if I need to. Anyway, I'm afraid no-one guessed this chapter would happen. I am, however, going to make a habit of teasing the next chapter to you all. So, here is your next clue (though it's a bit obvious):**

_**Lorde**_**.**

**Also, please leave a review about:**

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**Detailed reviews are very helpful and do act as an incentive for me to write quicker - I have the week off, but I also have a lot of exams coming up, so I'll try to write and upload another chapter. Until then, stay tuned.**

**R.**


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